Of Lampposts and Winter
by boldlikeblack
Summary: A conversation around the fire leads Imogen Cousland to play the bard for an evening.


**Disclaimer:**** Dragon Age is among the many thing that I do not own. It belongs to the mo'effing geniuses at Bioware (who should really let *me* play with it instead of Felicia Day (*wink-wink* *nudge-nudge). I'm not making any money off of this and any lines that you recognize were probably taken directly from gameplay.**

**A/N:**** I've been wondering what would have happened if the character in the Human Noble origin had been a few years younger and how the change in age would have affected the relationships with the NPCs and with the Warden's ability to complete the quests/secure the treaties while simultaneously having to convince people that he/she was capable of the job. This is my first venture into that A/U and here is what you need to know:**

**1) My age adjustment makes my Cousland, Imogen, 16 when the game starts. She's 12 years younger than Fergus, nine years younger than Alistair, six years younger than Nate Howe, four years younger than Delilah Howe, two years younger than Ser "Rory" Gilmore and a year younger than Thomas Howe.**

**2) Some of the conversations that are 'private' in regular gameplay now take place around the fire at came or in 'party banter' to make them more appropriate for a 16/17/18 year old young woman to have. I also think that it makes them more entertaining.**

**3) This one-shot takes place about half way through the game/quest to raise an army. It's after Orzammar and the Circle of Magi, as well as Warden's Peak and The Stone Prisoner. It's also after a visit to Denerim and the first part of Redcliffe but before the Urn of Scared Ashes. (Not totally important, but I felt the need to include it)**

**4) If I do decide to continue this, I'll pick the romance option (either from fanon or regular game canon) toward the end of the game/story of Origins. I'm open to suggestion but I have laid the groundwork for at least two options in this oneshot.**

**If you like this, please let me know. If you wish to review negatively, I would appreciate very much if you could please do it in a constructive way (not just "Ur story sux"). I'm wary of jumping into a fandom with such lengthy canon when the sequel is coming out in about two weeks, and because I'm sure that it would derail all of my other fandoms (Glee, Inception/Batman Begins, The Vampire Diaries and Supernatural) for a very long while. However, I couldn't resist writing this oneshot since it's the only thing I've been inspired by in a long while.**

**And if you're still here after that hella Author's Note, please enjoy the story.**

**BBB**

Imogen leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the sky. The night was clear, with a bite to it that reminded her that winter would soon hinder the progress of their quest to deliver the treaties. She would have to speak to her companions about taking on a job or two from the Chanter's Board in the next town they reached. They would need the extra coins to stock up their rations and supplement their bedding for the colder weather. She made a mental note to ask Wynne about any salves or charms that would insulate them from the chill.

Oghren's booming laugh pulled Imogen's attention back to the conversation around the fire. "How do you find time to kill anybody, Zevran? You're like a damn nug in heat!" the dwarf exclaimed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Business is much more enjoyable when mixed with pleasure," Zevran replied with a careless shrug. "I'm sure our lovely Orlesian rose will agree with me; won't you, Leliana?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Leliana said with a half smile.

"Hmm, keep your secrets then. I do love a woman with a little...mystery," Zevran drawled, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Mystery is all well and good, but could we please talk about something else?" Alistair asked tersely.

Leliana stifled a giggle. "What?" Alistair asked, trying to keep his stony expression in place in the face of Leliana's bright laughter.

"I find it amusing that you can hack armies of darkspawn to death without flinching," she said as her laughter tapered off, "but a bawdy tale or two can make you squirm like bait on a hook."

"Yes, well, please forgive my modesty," Alistair drawled sarcastically as his face coloured.

"Oh my," Leliana said, tilting her head to take in her handiwork, "you grew up in the Chantry. Have you never...?"

"Never...? Never what? Had a good pair of shoes?" Alistair replied.

"Surely you know what she means," Zevran said with an awed look.

"I'm not sure I do," Alistair huffed. "Have I never seen a Basilisk? Ate jellied ham? Have I never licked a lamppost in winter?"

"Oh you are making fun of me now," Leliana said with a pout.

"Make fun of you, dear bard? Perish the thought," he replied, shaking his head. "What about our stalwart leader?" he offered, looking in Imogen's direction.

Suddenly, all eyes were on her. Zevran and Leliana watched her with interest, while Oghren stared lewdly. Sten was stoic, as ever, and Wynne looked as though she wanted to laugh. Even Shale turned its head for a moment before staring back into the dark and Imogen thought she saw Morrigan tip her head to listen, though she couldn't be sure from this distance. Imogen found herself wishing she'd paid more attention to the original conversation.

"I'm sorry..." she said.

"What about you, Commander? Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?" Alistair asked theatrically.

Laughter bubbled between Imogen's lips before she could contain it. "Oh yes, but only once. It was an awful experience that I never wish to repeat," she replied.

There was a beat of silence as her companions continued to stare at her expectantly. Imogen raised her eyebrows at them in return.

"Oh come now," Zevran said at last, "we must have the story. You cannot make such a tragic claim without explanation."

Imogen rolled her eyes. "Very well, if I must. It happened in Denerim during the winter festival of my twelfth year," she began.

"Twelve!" Alistair said with a yelp.

"How precocious," Leliana remarked with wonder.

"Do you wish to hear this story or not?" Imogen asked.

Leliana nodded vigorously and Alistair, turning a pale shade of green, nodded as well.

"Where was I?" Imogen wondered aloud. "Right, the winter festival of my twelfth year..."

**BBB**

_Imogen drummed her fingers against the side table in annoyance. Across the room, Delilah hummed to herself as she embroidered perfect stitch after perfect stitch into the shirt she was working on. Imogen's snarled embroidery had long since been discarded and the constant plunk-plunk-plunk of Delilah's needle was starting to grate on her nerves._

"_It's not necessary for you to stay, you know," Delilah said, her needle never changing pace._

"_I'm fine, honestly," Imogen assured reaching for her hopeless embroidery once more._

"_I won't tell anyone if you want to slip off to the library. I'm sure you'll find something to read that entertains you better than embroidery," Delilah assured._

_Imogen tried to smile prettily. "It really is fine," she lied._

_Delilah shook her head and set her embroidery aside. "You've been tapping at that table for a half hour and you've had this look about you...like a caged mabari...since your mother suggested that I spend the afternoon with you," she said._

_Imogen sighed and put her elbows on her knees so that she could rest her chin in her hands in a way that her mother would entirely disapprove of. "I'm sorry, Delilah. I'm just not good at these kinds of things," she replied._

"_To which kind of things would you be referring?" Delilah asked, raising a delicately arched brow._

"_Sewing, needlework, music...conversation," Imogen listed, frowning._

_Delilah patted her shoulder gently. "You're only twelve, Genie; you have plenty of time to perfect those skills before your parents seek a match for you," she assured._

"_I don't want a match," Imogen asserted with a childish pout, "I want to go off and have adventures. I want to see the white castles of the Anderfels and the statues of Nevarra. I want to fight bandits and find treasure. I want to be more than just Lady So-and-So."_

"_We must do as our parents bid," Delilah replied stoically. "They only desire what is best for us," she added quickly._

_Imogen sighed. She supposed that Delilah, sixteen to her twelve, might know better than she did, but she didn't have to like it. Delilah gave her another pat on the shoulder. "However,you needn't worry about that today," Delilah said kindly. "Off with you."_

"_What about my mother?" Imogen asked, smiling genuinely at the thought of finding a new adventure story to read._

"_She won't be back until just before sunset, when it's time for us to get ready for the feast," Delilah replied with a smile that bordered on devious. "If you're back before then, I won't have to say anything."_

_Even though it was improper, Imogen threw her arms around the older girl's neck and hugged her quickly. "Thank you," she said honestly._

"_Don't thank me," Delilah answered with a laugh. "Just go."_

_With a final smile, Imogen made for the library as if warhounds nipped at her very heels._

_**BBB**_

_Imogen was three chapters into a heavy tome on the history of the Grey Wardens in Fereldan, as Bann Sighard apparently had no taste for fiction, when she looked up to see Thomas and Rory standing over her. Thomas was wearing a miniature version of his father's scowl, as usual, but Rory was grinning broadly._

"_Yes?" Imogen said, putting her finger on the page to mark her place._

"_We were wondering," Rory began._

"_He was wondering," Thomas interrupted snootily._

_Rory scowled at him before continuing. "As I was saying, we were wondering if you would be interested in joining us for a stroll," he said._

"_Where?" Imogen asked._

"_No place in particular," Rory evaded._

"_Where?" she asked again._

_Thomas sighed. "To the market," he answered sharply. "Do you wish to come or not?" he asked._

_Imogen narrowed her eyes at Rory. "You need me to sweet talk the guard into letting us out, don't you?" she said._

_Rory smiled again. "You may have to cry," he admitted._

_Imogen grinned in return. "Let me get my cloak," she said._

_**BBB**_

_Imogen didn't have to cry, not completely. Letting her eyes fill with moisture while telling a heart-wrenching story of losing her favourite toy out the window had been enough to convince the guard to let her, Rory and Thomas out of the estate to search for it. He made them promise to be back before sundown when his shift ended and that suited Imogen well enough. With their hoods pulled up against the wind, the three had headed for the market with Thomas as their guide._

_Though Thomas nearly got them lost with his supposed shortcuts, but they made it to the North Gate without incident. Imogen's smile was reflected on Rory's face as she took in the bustle of the market. Even Thomas had a small smile on his face. There were stalls selling every kind of trinket a person could imagine and each of them was busy with shoppers seeking solstice gifts for their friends and kin. There was even a dwarf selling very fine miniature statues. Very few dwarves travelled above-ground and Imogen immediately pulled Rory in the direction of his stall._

_Rory dug his heels into the frozen ground and Imogen stumbled forward on some ice from the jolt. His long, gangly arms were around her at once, halting her impending collision with the ground. Rory set her on her feet quickly and let her go as if she were on fire. "I want to talk to the dwarf," she stated._

_Rory looked down at her for a brief moment before flicking his brilliant red hair out of his eyes and looking away. "We didn't come to shop," he mumbled as scarlet spots formed on his normally pale cheeks._

_Imogen shook her head. "I don't want to buy anything, Rory. I only wanted to ask him if there are really dragons in the Frostback Mountains. Could you imagine what it would be like to see a real live dragon?" she explained excitedly._

_Thomas snorted. "I dare say he has better things to do that answer the impertinent questions of a silly little girl," he remarked._

_Imogen frowned and clenched her fists. "I'm fluent in Antivan and Old Fereldan. I can ride a horse and shoot a bow better than you. I've even started training with a sword and shield. I am not a silly little girl," she insisted, stamping her foot on the ground only to slip again._

_Rory caught her and righted her so quickly it was as if she had never fallen in the first place. In an effort to salvage her dignity, she sneered at Thomas. "You're barely a year older than I," she stated._

_Thomas gave her an oily smile. "Perhaps, but I am not a girl and Father says that I am tall for my age, which makes me much better suited to converse with the dwarf should I choose," he replied._

_Rory caught Imogen around the waist when she lunged at Thomas, pulling her away even as Thomas stepped out of the reach of her fists. Imogen squirmed in Rory's grip as Thomas laughed at her. "I'm better suited to anything that you can do," Imogen snarled._

"_Really?" Thomas asked, wheezing._

_Imogen calmed and Rory set her down, stepping away from her so quickly he ruffled her heavy cloak. She straightened her dress and pushed her hair back under her hood. "I can do absolutely anything that you can, and I can do it better," she stated._

"_We'll see," Thomas said. "Now come on. We've got to hurry if we want to see what we came for and get back to the Bann's estate before sunset. I expect you not to dilly-dally at the stalls, Imogen."_

_Imogen stuck her tongue out at Thomas the moment he turned his back and went striding toward the Southern end of the market. "What a pompous ass," she muttered to Rory._

_He said nothing, but followed after Thomas with flaming cheeks. Imogen looked wistfully at the dwarven merchant before falling into step beside Rory._

_**BBB**_

_Thomas came to a stop in front of a building with sign over the door shaped like an angry unicorn. Imogen, who had been sulking instead of paying attention, walked into Rory's back. She steadied herself and mumbled an apology, but Rory didn't acknowledge her. "Is this what we came to see?" she asked, unimpressed._

"_Of course not," Thomas said. "It would hardly do to be caught on an outing that, while not expressly forbidden, would certainly be frowned upon."_

"_Then why are we here?" she asked._

_Thomas raised his arm and pointed down the street. Imogen looked beyond him and saw nothing but a few houses. "I've seen houses before," she said, rolling her eyes._

"_I'm not pointing at the houses," Thomas replied. "I'm pointing at that."_

"_What?" Imogen asked, seeing nothing but an unlit lamppost and a rubbish bin._

"_The lamppost," Thomas drawled. "Last winter Nathaniel paid me fifteen pieces to lick it and hold my tongue there for a ten count. If you really are better than I, as you claim to be, then it will be no feat for you to hold your tongue against the post to the count of fifteen."_

_Imogen wrinkled her nose at the thought. "That's disgusting," she said._

_Thomas shrugged. "If you can't do it..." he said._

"_Of course I can," she snorted. "As I said, anything you can do..."_

"_Whenever you're ready then," Thomas said, leaning against the wall of the tavern and crossing his arms._

_Imogen took a step toward the lamppost and Rory put his hand on her shoulder. She turned to him and raised her brows expectantly. "Let him have this one," he requested quietly. "Who knows who or what's touched that post."_

"_Absolutely not," Imogen answered, shaking off his hand and striding down the street with purpose. She stepped close the lamppost and waved to the boys. "I'm ready," she called._

"_On three then," Thomas answered, smirking. "One, two, three!"_

_Imogen stuck her tongue out and touched the pole. It was so cold it burned against the heated flesh of her tongue. Inwardly, she counted along with Thomas as he and Rory walked toward her._

"_Fifteen," Thomas said as they reached her._

_Smiling as best she could, Imogen pulled her tongue back into her mouth. At least, she attempted to. She pulled, but her tongue would not budge. With an undignified squawk, she tried again. She could hear the smirk in Thomas's voice as he said "What's the matter little Genie, are you stuck?"_

"_Obwiouswee," she hissed._

_Thomas stepped in front of her chuckling, pulling Rory with him. "I didn't get stuck," he drawled._

_Imogen tried to scowl at him before attempting to pull her tongue away from the pole. "Hewp me," she demanded._

_Rory took a step toward her, but Thomas put an arm out to stop him. "You don't need any help. After all, you're better at everything aren't you? Escaping tricky situations must certainly be something you excel at," he said maliciously._

_Tugging on Rory's cloak, Thomas stepped away. Rory resisted, looking at Imogen with wide eyes as she struggled to free herself. "We can't just leave her here," Rory insisted._

_Thomas smiled sharply. "Do you or do you not want to visit The Pearl, Rory?" he inquired._

_Rory huffed. "It's not right," he stated._

"_We can come back for her when we're through," Thomas conceded, pulling Rory along._

"_Wowy, pwease," Imogen begged._

"_I...sorry, Imogen," he said, turning his back on her and falling into step beside Thomas._

_Imogen struggled, pushing away from the pole with her hands while she tried to pull her tongue back into her mouth. She tried and tried as Thomas and Rory disappeared from her sight, but her attempts were in vain. Frustrated, she beat her hands against the pole._

_With her heart racing and her breath clouding in the air, Imogen tried to think of a way to free herself. Cutting off her tongue was an option, as she had been permitted to carry a dagger in her boot since the age of ten, but it was more of a last resort than a solution. Wiggling her tongue gently while pushing away from the pole slowly might be a viable solution._

_Unfortunately, it didn't work. It only frustrated Imogen more. She pulled and pushed until her tongue ached. She beat her hands against the pole until she was overwhelmed with her frustration and began to cry. Imogen cried until her tears dripped off her chin and the tracks froze on her face._

"_What's this now?" she heard a voice say. "What cruel fate could make fair lady cry so?"_

"_Pwease hewp me," she said, waving her arm in the direction of the voice. "They weft me hewe."_

"_Knaves and scoundrels, the lot of them I'm sure," replied her rescuer as he came into view._

_Had she not already embarrassed herself past the point of caring with her futile girlish tears, Imogen would have expired of mortification as she laid eyes on Nathaniel Howe. Thomas's older brother was tall, handsome and unfailingly kind. He was also good friends with her own brother, Fergus, though Fergus was six years Nathaniel's senior and Nathaniel would think nothing of sharing this tale with her brother. Fergus would laugh for weeks after he found out._

"_This is quite the mess, isn't it Genie?" he asked, shaking his head._

"_Hewp," she said, sniffling pathetically._

"_I'm afraid there isn't much I can do," Nathaniel admitted. "You must rescue yourself."_

_Imogen choked down a sob and pushed against the pole once more. "Nathaniew, pwease," she said._

"_I can, however, give you the means," he said. "Cup your hands around your mouth like this," he instructed, demonstrating._

_Imogen did as he asked and waited for the next step. She was unprepared for Nathaniel to step in and cover her hands with his own. "You have to touch the pole as well," he said, adjusting her hands._

_Imogen blinked and swallowed, wondering if the cold had started to freeze the blood in her veins. She hoped not, but could not deny the way her heart skipped and stuttered. "Now," Nathaniel said, "you must breathe into your hands to warm the skin that's stuck."_

_Imogen exhaled three times, taking large inhales through her fingers to fuel her breath. It made her feel slightly dizzy, but she continued._

"_Good," Nathaniel said with an easy smile. "Now breathe out and wiggle your tongue up and down at the same time. It should come loose right away."_

_Imogen exhaled twice more, while wiggling her tongue and nearly started to sob again as it came from the pole with ease. "Thank you so much, Nathaniel," she sniffled. "I thought I'd never get free."_

"_It was all you, dear lady," Nathaniel said with a theatrical bow. "I am but a bystander to your self-rescue."_

_Imogen gave him a half smile before frowning. "I'm going to kill your brother," she said coldly._

_Nathaniel mirrored her frown. "Those are serious words," he replied._

"_They just left me here!" Imogen shouted. "Instead of helping me get free, he decided it would be best to go to some place called The Pearl even though he was the reason I was stuck there in the first place. He even managed to convince Rory to go too."_

"_How exactly did Thomas get you into that situation?" Nathaniel asked, raising his brows._

_The blood Imogen had thought was frozen suddenly made its way to her cheeks. "He told me told me you paid him fifteen pieces to lick the pole for a ten count and that if I really was better than him I could do it for longer;" she explained quickly, "which I did except I got stuck and then they left me there to go have an adventure without me."_

"_I had to pay him fifteen pieces not to tell father that he took me up on that dare. It took us an hour to figure out that trick I just showed you," Nathaniel said, scowling. "It was the money I'd saved for Delilah's solstice gift. She was so unhappy with the three-bit trinket I got her that she left the room and cried. I had to spend a whole sovereign on her birthday present just to make up for it."_

"_But he said he didn't get stuck," Imogen replied, bewildered._

"_He's a liar," Nathaniel stated._

_Nathaniel gave her the strangest look when she began to smile. "Then I am better than him," she said happily._

"_Familial loyalty won't allow me to confirm or deny that statement," Nathaniel answered with a lopsided grin._

_He offered her his arm and she blinked up at him. "Would you allow me to escort you back to Bann Sighard's estate? I believe we have a feast to dress for," he said._

_Imogen looked up at the darkening sky. "That would be very agreeable," she said, feeling a bit nauseated and dizzy. "I would very much like to rest before I have to play at being a girl," she admitted as she slipped her arm through his._

_Nathaniel chuckled and led her away._

**BBB**

"And that is the tragic tale of the only time I will ever lick a lamppost in my life," Imogen finished.

"That is not...quite what I had imagined," Zevran said, disappointed.

Imogen shrugged. "What else could you possibly imagine when someone refers to...oh," she said, blushing deeply.

"Oh indeed," Leliana chuckled.

"You meant a lamppost," Imogen said, feeling the fool. She glared at Alistair, vowing to find some way to make it necessary for him to share a tent with Oghren at some point in the near future.

"Er, yes," Alistair replied, staring at his boots.

"In that case," Imogen said, blushing once more, "I can say that I have only ever licked a literal lamppost in winter."

"Why ever not?" Leliana asked honestly.

Imogen wished that and entrance to the Deep Roads would suddenly appear and swallow her before closing again. "I'm seventeen," she replied, hoping it would be answer enough.

"You are very beautiful. It would be no effort at all for you to find a...lamppost," Leliana said with an airy giggle.

"Alistair is a very handsome and brave warrior, yet at twenty-six he has yet to lick...a lamppost..." Imogen supplied, struggling but succeeding to keep a straight face. "Perhaps he could better use your assistance in locating a lamppost."

"Hey now," Alistair said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

Leliana and Zevran both turned toward him, smiling eerily similar predatory smiles. "Zevran and I would be more than capable of locating a lamppost for you dear Alistair," Leliana purred.

"Yes, you must only tell us what style of...lamppost...you prefer and we will ensure that you have it," Zevran said.

Alistair shot Imogen a panicked glance, but she smiled at him as she stood.

"You're not just going to leave me at their mercy, are you?" he asked, taking a large gulp.

Imogen's smile grew wider. "I'm afraid there isn't much I can do," she replied. "You must rescue yourself." Still smiling, Imogen made for her tent.

"Whatever happened to Warden Solidarity," she heard Alistair moan as she walked away.

She shrugged before unlacing her boots and crawling into her tent for the night.


End file.
